This story harkens back to Season Two, when Abby and Tim were engaged in hot and heavy dating. Join with us now as Abby prepares to say
Happy Birthday, Tim
by JMK758
Abby Sciuto puts her key card into the hotel door's reader at 5:00 on Friday afternoon and the click of the handle and the green light atop the panel are her signals that her plan's finally begun. She's planned this for more than a week and that tiny green light means there's no turning back.
Pushing open the door, she turns on the light, looks about the room and pronounces it perfect. Her main focus is the king size bed at the far wall. It had taken her a long time in on-line searches to find a room so perfectly aligned, bed facing the door, but her diligence has been rewarded and now she's more than ready to claim that reward. For the rest of the weekend it'll dominate her life and his. She sets the bag onto the bed and smiles, feels the thrill chase through every inch of her. This room's perfect!
The key card she puts back into her wallet is part of a matched set, the twin of which sits in a small white envelope upon Tim's desk. It may already be in his hand, she realizes with a sharp thrill. He may already have read the unsigned note which simply says the name and address of the hotel, the room number and time. He's so punctual she knows he'll arrive, bursting with curiosity, at precisely 6:00.
She has only an hour to prepare. She hadn't wanted longer for fear her anticipation would burst through her skin. She pulls from the bag a sign. Boldly printed, it proclaims 'Happy Birthday, Tim.' Removing a tape dispenser, she carries them over to the bed, kneels upon it and tapes the sign above the headboard. It'll be one of the first things he sees when he opens the door, his special present underneath it.
She returns to the bag beside her, pulls it open and checks inside, tells herself she's be silly. She'd started to pack a week ago, chose the best selection from her favorites. She feels her anticipation build as she touches each piece. The thought of how Tim will use each of them on her makes her tingle, her breasts and labia feeling the electric charges of her thrills.
She presses the bag closed, realizes that if she doesn't finish getting ready everything she'd planned will be spoiled by her anxiousness to begin. Need drawn out is spiced, need destroyed by carelessness is sour.
x
She reaches for the small button at the top of her blouse and realizes she's shaking already. Good. In an hour and a half she'll be shaking the screws out of the bed frame. But as she tries to get the first tiny button undone, her wrists rest upon her breasts and the touch to her nipples sends bolts of lightning blasting through her body and the flare starts yet another small fire in one more spot which will join the others in an inferno within her.
It feels so great she has to stop, tries to focus upon the passing of the minutes even while she admits she's a fool. She'd started this fire smoldering inside her last week and nothing's go to put it out until the conflagration consumes her. It'll take Tim's hose to put out the blaze and she knows he won't hurry.
She gets the first button undone and starts on the second, imagines Tim's fingers undoing them, something that won't happen today but they have the whole weekend for variety. In her mind's eyes Tim stands before her, his fingers undo her protection button by button by button, his eyes drink in her breasts exposed inch by inch, her thin lacy bra by no means up to its task. If not for his imagined fingers upon her buttons, the image setting the pace, she doesn't think she'd be able to get the small closers apart.
In her imagination it's Tim she watches pull her blouse from her miniskirt, his eyes locked upon her breasts as she must breathe deeper and deeper to cool - or fan - the fire growing within her.
She pulls the silk off her arms, folds the blouse and sets it upon the bed, but for her Tim reaches behind her to undo her bra. Then his fingertips run along her back and sides as he pulls the material off; his fingers brush along her tingling breasts, finally tease her firm nipples. Flare after flare charges her from skin to her most vital spots before she drops the bra upon the blouse and the phantom Tim reaches for the clasp of her miniskirt.
He pulls down the zipper at her right hip and lets the cloth go so it strokes her bare legs before forming a dry puddle at her feet. Now all that's left are her panties and shoes and she steps out, comes down to her barefoot height so she can retrieve her skirt and put it with the rest of her protection.
Now she's left with her final defense from being completely available to his lusts and she closes her eyes, sees Tim run his hands down behind her, slip his fingers and hands past her waistband to cup her cheeks, then slowly push the material down. It trails a moist line along her inner thighs until it passes her knees and drops to her feet.
The moisture on her instep only hints at far more to come and she hopes the bed's up to the challenge.
x
In her mind Tim reaches for her labia, but when she feels him touch her steaming clitoris she gasps and must stop, must pull away or risk ruining everything. As a fantasy it's too good and she'd nearly gone out of control. Now she trembles between the need to go back to do more and the fear of what time - and more - she'll waste if she does.
She takes a deep, not steadying breath and pushes the dream away until another occasion, one when she's not getting ready for the real thing. She scoops up her panties and shoes and takes everything to a chair across the room.
She'd planned on a shower to prepare herself but though it'll be hot she decides it has to be a few degrees cooler than usual. Luxuriating in the feel of the shag carpet under her bare feet she goes into the bathroom, tosses down the shaggy throw rug to protect herself from the tiles. She turns on the spray and adjusts it to not quite as hot as she feels so her trembling body will neither cool from its lustful fire nor burn, just simmer.
She steps into the shower and finds she's not alone. Her phantom lover has preceded her. The hot jets become his fingers which stroke down her body from breasts to stomach to thighs and down her legs. The hot water becomes his hot body, the streams his fingers through her hair, along her face, down her neck, upon her back and then around to her breasts. She reaches up and turns the nozzle, changes the steady spray to massage and now his fingers stroke and caress her breasts, her stomach and down lower.
She pulls the nozzle off its mounting and now his fingers and mouth have full access to her. Over and over her left breast his fingers and mouth explore and caress and thrum, then to her right, over and under and up. His hot fingers massage her right nipple, then her left until she's gasping the steamy air in as quickly as she can, becoming as wet inside as out.
His wet fingers massage down her stomach, to her mons and she steps aside, opens herself to him and she aims up, his mouth and fingers- She nearly screams at the rapid thrumming touches! She fights herself to pull the hot water away before an orgasm can knock her from her feet. She clings to the safety bar, gasping steam into her burnt body and drops the nozzle, hurriedly turns the valves and the room goes silent except for her heavy panting.
Dripping, she clutches the bar until she can regain her breath, then forces herself to push the curtain aside. She steps out onto the throw rug, feels the cooler air do nothing for her burning lusts, reaches for a large towel and tries not to think of his hands toweling her dry.
x
She uses her brush and the wall mounted hair drier on her hair and then in her imagination the heated jet becomes his hands and body all over hers, his hot touches refiring her even as she dries, anticipating how his real touches will make her wet instead.
When she reenters the room the clock radio on the night table, if she can trust it, tells her she has less than a half hour left and so much to do. First comes the bedding itself; quilt and comforter and blankets all folded down and aside, leaving only the sheet.
Then she goes to the bag on the bed and starts to empty most of it onto the night table and into the top drawer, which she leaves open. She's packed everything she can unreasonably think of for three days and three nights. She's not sure what he'll want to do so she's brought everything from the soft to the hard, from the kiss to the bite. Whatever he wants to do she's up for. The room's reserved until Monday afternoon and she doubts she'll see daylight all weekend.
But the things he sees first, the things that will set the tone for the weekend, those are hers. She pulls out four lengths of red silk, one end of each tied in a noose, essential to her plan. Nylon and leather chafe and bite, but these will leave no marks.
She kneels at the bottom corner of the bed, ties one end tightly to the foot and brings the other up over the corner, the noose only an inch above the edge. Her heart pounds with the thought of Tim's birthday surprise and what he'll do when he finds it. She goes to the other side of the bed's foot and repeats the preparation, lays the silk out over the corner, barely enough of it to for the noose to rest upon the mattress, ready for her and whatever it'll spark in Tim's imagination.
Now her heart is racing and her breasts long for his touch and her moist labia tingle with the need for him. Her clitoris feels like it's thumping to the mad beat of her heart. The two remaining strips she ties to the head of the bed, again leaving only enough to clear the mattress corner. It's going to be almost too high for her; she'll be pinned to the four corners.
She looks down at her handiwork and her heart speeds faster, pounds so hard she can almost see her breasts moving over the drumbeat. She imagines what he'll do when he sees her and her touch on her breasts almost undoes her.
She returns to the bathroom for the largest towel, comes back and wraps it around and about one of the three pillows, sets it about hip high on the edge of the bed in case he decides he wants some extra elevation.
She then goes to the thermostat and adjusts it for a comfortable setting for her nudity.
Now she's ready, and can barely endure the wait.
x
She gets upon the wide bed and reaches for the lower left silken cord, puts her foot through the red noose and pulls so it tightens about her ankle bone where, no matter how hard she pulls, it won't interfere with blood flow. What it does do is to kick her heart up to warp speed. Now she's shaking, unable to ignore the reality. She's given herself heart and body to Tim, but now she is doing so far more than she ever had, far more than she'd ever imagined she'd do, and this is her idea. She's bound to him in love, but now she's to bind herself to him, going to be his - in every way.
She shifts across the bed, her left leg left behind and she stretches, reaches down for the other silken cord and slips the noose about her right ankle, pulls firmly.
Now her feet are tied, her legs spread wide apart to the two corners, the wide bed holding her several feet apart. Across the room is the door and when it opens he'll have the perfect view of her, of everything she's offering him. Her heart pounds, her hands shake and she can even feel her vagina quiver, as if it could know it's a gift, freely given for everything he wants to do.
Her legs splayed wide, she's utterly available and imagines she can feel her lips part in longing and offer. When he comes through that door over there she'll be his to do whatever he wants to with. Even if she were to stop now, she's still wide open, stretched apart, and she needs him to come and take her!
x
She lays back, boosts herself up the bare inch she's allowed and the silk about her ankles tightens, grows taut, doesn't allow her to move further, doesn't allow her to close her legs. It doesn't allow her to do anything but be a feminine gift for Tim.
She pulls the second and third pillows under her head and shoulders so she can see the door, reaches up and out with her left hand. She has to strain to reach but manages to touch the red silk noose. Working her fingers into the noose she carefully slips her hand in, further and further until her hand's inside. She gives a firm tug and the noose wraps tightly between her wrist bones and her hand, the tie behind her hand.
Now she's trapped, three times trapped and almost helpless, legs spread wide, her throbbing vagina utterly available. When he comes through that door he can do absolutely anything he wants with her and she'll be incapable of stopping him, only able to agree with everything he wants. Her breasts ache for him to touch them and she caresses herself, her full mounds, her hard sensitive nipples, imagines his hand on her, his mouth on her, his...
Up to this moment this is only a fantasy, and she still has the chance to change her mind, to pull back, to change some part of the plan. She can still surprise him, can still give him a birthday and weekend he'll remember, but once she does this, once she reaches into and pulls the last red tie, she'll surrender herself to Tim and become his; his to command, his to control, his to use.
The thought thrills her, lust spiced with fear. She reaches up as far as she can, strains against the other binding silks until she can reach and slip her hand into the noose.
Her hand's a moment from being trapped. Once she does this, one final tug, she's committed. She has one... final... moment.
She tugs hard. The noose bites. Now, struggle though she might, she will not get loose unless he releases her.
She's helpless. Spread wide, her moist labia tingles as the soft warm air plays along her, her arms extended, stretched far from the body she's powerless to protect.
A click from across the room! The key card has been used.
The door opens.
She's Helpless.
Spread.
Vulnerable.
Available.
His.